Summer has ended. The weather has cooled. But the passion for ice cream spans all seasons. Of all the editor's choice columns to have appeared so far, this one prompted the greatest response from the Frommer's staff. Witness the fervor with which each editor insists that his or her ice cream is the very best. Like Proust with his madeleines, ice cream transports us into the realm of happy memory -- of sweetly dripping cones in the back of a hot station wagon, of crystal-cold, sorbet on a sultry, tropical afternoon, of sipping a shake in the booth of an old-school Southern diner.
Unlike most gastronomic endeavors, ice cream is singular in its universality. Italian gelato, Indian kufli, Brazilian fruit ices, and heartland, dairy-barn ice cream -- all promise the experience of being, at once, utterly elsewhere, and yet completely at home. So read on for a selection of our very favorite brands, flavors, and shops. And don't forget the sprinkles.
Belém, Brazil: Tropical Fruit Fantasy
My favorite ice cream fix (unfortunately for this New Yorker) comes from Belém's Sorveteria Cairu, specializing in ice cream made from Amazon fruits that seem exotic even to most Brazilians. Try flavors like super-sweet cupuaçu (a relative of the cacao plant, with a creamy pulp) or bacuri, two local favorites. Or just combine exotic flavors -- in cones or bowls -- until the right pairing strikes your fancy. The snow-white vanilla and the scarlet açai (a berry rumored to make one strong and virulent) is as intriguing as it looks. Sorveteria Cairu has two locations: Travessia 14 de Março 1570 (tel. 091/3267-1476), and at Estaç ão das Docas (tel. 091/3212-5595). -- Marc Nadeau
Boston, Massachusetts: Attack of the Cookie Monster
Hold the Chunky Monkey -- I'll take Emack & Bolio's Cookie Monster or Grasshopper Pie over Ben & Jerry's any day. When I lived in Boston, I'd walk past Ben & Jerry's to get to the Emack's store on Newbury Street. Emack's always appealed to me as the smaller, fresher New England ice cream-making institution. The company has only a handful of stores across the US (compared to Ben & Jerry's 430-plus locations), but it has similar rock n' roll roots. The owners -- not "Emack" or "Bolio," since those names were taken from two homeless guys -- opened their first store in Brookline, MA in 1975 as a place to play music late into the night. And flavors like Twisted Dee-light, named for the Twisted Sister singer Dee Snider, carry on the rock star tradition. What really matters here aren't the funky names, but the quality of the ice cream. One taste of the aptly named Heaven (vanilla ice cream, marshmallow swirl, and white chocolate chips), and you'll be a fan, too. Visit www.emackandbolios.com for store locations and flavors. -- Jen Reilly
Brenham, Texas: Blue Bell is Southern Comfort
When a Texan is asked to choose a favorite ice cream, her answer is as instinctive as the ice cream is unforgettable: Blue Bell. Blue Bell (www.bluebell.com), made in small-town Brenham, Texas, is a family-run brand found in grocery stores and restaurants throughout Texas and in other parts of the South and Southwest. It celebrates its 100th anniversary in 2007.
It's hard to write about Blue Bell without becoming emotional. It's an emotion borne of longing, considering that I can't get my hands on it where I live, in New York City. (Actually, I could, but it would cost me; Blue Bell will ship 4 half gallon containers, packed in dry ice, for $89, including shipping, to anywhere in the lower 48.) After a bowl, or two, or three, of Blue Bell, you'll be making promises you know you'll never keep. The ice cream is, well, creamy, but not too heavy. I am certain that it's made from the milk of magic cows. Homemade Vanilla tops the flavor chart for me, but other favorites include Buttered Pecan and Cookies 'n' Cream -- just three of the dozens of flavors they make, some perennially, some seasonally. I'm not the only one who thinks Blue Bell is best. Though sold in only 16 states, Blue Bell ranks third in national ice cream sales, behind Edy's and Breyer's. And my love of Blue Bell is shared by President George W. Bush, who often serves it at White House picnics and other special events. He and I see eye to eye on little else, but it just goes to show that in these politically divisive times, one thing can unite us: Blue Bell is the best ice cream in the country. -- Cate Latting
Coventry, Pennsylvania: Down on the Farm
The towns and farmlands within an hour's drive south of Allentown, Pennsylvania, used to be known as "Meadowbrook country," named for everyone's favorite brand of local ice cream. Recently, the area has been gripped by the sort of minor scandal that can really shake a small town. Meadowbrook sold its name, and the ice cream in the container just isn't the real deal any more. Just ask Anna Moyer, owner of Coventry Ice Cream Parlor (tel. 610/323-0130) in rural Coventry, PA. After 16 years of serving Meadowbrook, Ms. Moyer switched in January 2006 to Longacre's old-fashioned ice cream. When asked how Longacre's stacks up, Anna quips, "It tastes like Meadowbrook used to." At the little shop just off the intersection of routes 100 and 422, Anna herself dished up my cone on a busy summer weekend during the post-dinner rush. The creamy, mild mint chocolate chip (the green kind) was subtly minty with crunchy miniature chocolate chips. Longacre's chocolate chip cookie dough was a combo of rich vanilla and chewy, sugary chunks of dough -- and extra chocolate chips for good measure.
Thirteen miles north of Coventry on Route 100 -- a trip past corn fields, rolling hills and antique and furniture stores -- is Longacre's Old-Fashioned Dairy Bar (tel. 610/845-7551) in Barto, PA. Longacre's has churned out frozen desserts since 1948. Sit down for a burger or a dog or perhaps a pork BBQ sandwich, if you must -- but their ice cream is the show stealer. Flavors range from the more experimental (peanut butter curl, strawberry cheesecake) to the traditional (butter almond, rum raisin, or just plain vanilla). You can also buy pints and half gallons of their ice cream, frozen yogurt, sherbet or sugar-free ice cream to take home. When you buy a batch of the all-natural cold stuff from a place like Coventry or Longacre's, you're supporting a small, local dairy and, hopefully, helping to preserve the American landscape. Let the ice cream coma begin. -- Alexia Meyers
Damariscotta, Maine: Good Enough for Fightin'
Everything tastes better when you're a kid; your taste buds are unspoiled by age, irony and expectation. I'm reminded of this by the bliss on my three-year-old's face when we participate in our favorite summer ritual, a Mr. Softee cone plastered with pasty-yet-irresistible rainbow sprinkles. We eat it on the curb at high speed to prevent meltdowns (his and the cone's). And as I watch him creating his first ice-cream memories, I remember the creamy, luscious flavors of my own childhood favorite, Round Top Ice Cream in Damariscotta, Maine (Business Route 1; tel. 207/563-5307). We'd stop occasionally after horseback riding lessons or summer trips to the beach. Formerly housed in a small roadside stand, Round Top (www.roundtoparts.org) is now part of an arts center and the ice cream has moved upstairs to an "old-fashioned" rendition of the original location, established in 1924. I'm willing to bet that the taste of the black raspberry and maple walnut (my favorite) remains unchanged, capable of whisking me back 30 years to fights in the backseat with my sister -- legs sticking to vinyl seats, sandy feet pushing against the seat backs in front of us, sweet drips running down our wrists. -- Margot Weiss
Florence, Italy: Why Not?
Everyone has their favorite Florence gelato -- for most people, its Vivoli (via Isole delle Stinche 7r; tel. 055/239-2334). But after you've followed the crowds, seek out someplace different. Perché no? (Why not?) Perché No! (via dei Tavolini 19/r; tel. 055/239-8969; www.percheno.firenze.it) is my favorite gelateria in Florence, a place where the exclamation point is included at no extra cost. Just off the Calzaiuoli, this bright little spot is famous for a few reasons. When Florence was liberated from the Germans after World War II, this was the first place to get electricity -- for American GIs, it was all about the ice cream. Perché No! is also said to have invented the semifreddo, a light, icy mousse. Try a combo of the caffè and tiramisu semifreddi for an evening pick-me-up. My favorite flavor is fiordilatte con miele e sesamo (milk cream with honey and sesame seeds). During the scorching summer ditch the cream and go for refreshing fruit sorbetti such as fragola (strawberry), arancia (orange) or frutti di bosco (forest fruits). Be sure to take advantage of the three-flavor maximum in your serving, and pair wisely!
Here's a tip: When browsing gelaterie in uncharted Italian territories (that is to say, without your Frommer's guidebook), avoid shops and stands with mounds of fluffy gelato on display. The stuff looks like whipped cream, and overflows the tray. This usually means the purveyor has mixed air into the gelato, which sacrifices both taste and quality. You want gelato that looks flat or somewhat textured. Perché no, indeed. -- Melinda Quintero
Ghana: The Best Chill for Your Cents
Imagine for a moment that you're in Ghana. It's hot. You need ice cream -- admit it, you do. But you're in Ghana, where refrigeration is reserved for meat, beer and Fanta. Luckily, there's a simple solution: Fan Ice. Essentially the only ice cream sold in Ghana, Fan Ice is bliss in a bag, and by far my favorite ice cream experience in the world.
Sold in factory sealed plastic pouches the size of a checkbook, Fan Ice comes in standard vanilla, strawberry and chocolate, as well as several flavors of fruit ice. The Fan Ice man rides around on a three-wheeled bike with a mounted cooler and honks a horn, keeping you hooked. Street sellers also hawk it out of a factory box precariously perched on their heads. After coughing up the 15 cents, take it straight: bite off a corner of the pouch and squeeze. The chill goes straight to your bones and give you an exquisite brain freeze. The vanilla, with its rich texture and genuine flavor, is hands down better than the others. You can buy Fan Ice in every major city in Ghana and in most smaller towns -- but satisfy your craving before noon. After that, the stuff is sold out and/or melted. -- Melinda Quintero
Locations throughout India, London & New York: Kufli
Ice cream is meant to be eaten in cones, but kufli, an Indian ice cream made with milk and cream, is often made in cone-shaped metal containers. The ice cream is grittier and denser than milky versions you may be used to, and is often flavored with cardamom, mango, rose or pistachio. Most Indian restaurants serve kufli, but some of the best is sold by street vendors and small snack shops in places like Jackson Heights, in New York City, Southall or Wembley, both just outside of London, and, of course, anywhere in India. Just be careful with roadside food in India, especially dairy. -- Anuja Madar
Mattapoisett, Massachusetts: Buttery, Pecan-y Goodness
It's hard to find good butter pecan ice cream. I should know -- for years, I've undertaken an unofficial quest to seek it out at every ice-cream parlor I visit. Perfect BP is loaded with crisp and lightly salted pecans (longer pieces, not little minced bits). The ice cream should have a buttery tang. I hate simple vanilla with chopped nuts passed off as butter pecan. And I really hate the taste of artificial butter flavoring.
My butter-pecan mission takes me, more often than not, to the quiet Buzzards Bay town of Mattapoisett, about midway between New Bedford and the Bourne Bridge, on the way to Cape Cod. Mattapoisett doesn't do much tourist traffic, although those driving down Route 6 often stop to marvel at the town's giant metal seahorse sculpture. I've been visiting family there for years, and every time I go, I can't leave without a stop at Oxford Creamery (98 County Rd. 6; tel. 508/758-3847; open Easter through Columbus Day only). Oxford Creamery is the kind of homey, unassuming seafood-and-ice-cream shack you'll find all along coastal New England -- lobster rolls, fried seafood, and, I'm here to say, the buttery-est, pecan-y-est ice cream you'll ever have. Their ice cream is full-bodied but not too thick. Other standout flavors include coffee, rocky road and mint chocolate chip, all of which taste even better blended into a frappe (New England parlance for a thick shake). The fried clam bellies are nothing to sneeze at, either. If you're driving to or from the Cape, Oxford Creamery is less than a two-mile detour from Highway 195. Take Exit 19A toward Mattapoisett, follow North Street and turn left on Route 6. It's about a mile down, on the right side. Look for the long line, and follow the sound of slurping cones. -- Kelly Regan
Nashville, Tennessee: Meat-and-ThreeÂ?and a Malt
Music City locals know where to go for some of middle Tennessee's best ice cream: the Elliston Place Soda Shop (2111 Elliston Place; tel. 615/327-1090). This meat-and-three with 1950s decor is a Nashville institution, known as much for its shakes and banana splits as for its comfort food. My favorite is the chocolate malt, so thick you need a spoon to eat it; indeed, it's not uncommon for couples to share a milkshake. You'll always find a gaggle of Vanderbilt students hanging out at the Soda Shop, though it's especially popular with kids. One drawback: It closes at 7pm on weekdays, 5pm Saturdays and it isn't open on Sundays. -- Matthew Brown
New York, New York: Sweet Serendipity
Many have imitated the frosty delight, but the birthplace of Frrrrrrrrozen Hot Chocolate is New York's Serendipity 3 (225 E. 60th St., between 2nd and 3rd Avenues; tel. 212/838-3531). The fashionable restaurant serves up both a beautiful ambience, with marble-topped tables, Tiffany-style stained glass, and beautiful desserts, including the oxymoronic frozen hot chocolate. There's a menu of appetizers, salads and entrees, but that's not why folks from Jacqueline Kennedy (pre- and post-Onassis), Andy Warhol and Melanie Griffith have been spotted at Serendipity. They use 17 kinds of chocolate to create the frozen confection; which was a long-time secret until Oprah discovered the ingredients. You may also request a coward's (smaller) portion, if you're an ice-cream sissy. The downside: because of Oprah and the many movies that have been filmed here, Serendipity can be (and usually is) a mob scene. Reservations are essential. Try to come during off hours. Don't bring a stroller (or check it in the garage across the street). The place is tiny, but once you're bumping elbows with your tablemate as you scarf down the sweet stuff, you'll find yourself in a more forgiving mood. -- Kathleen Warnock
Salem, Massachusetts: Just like Mom & Pop Used to Make
For fresh, homemade ice cream from a mom-and-pop shop (and one that still delivers its products, including milk in glass jars, to local homes), Puleo's Dairy in Salem, Massachusetts, gets my golden scoop award (376 Highland Avenue; tel. 978/744-MILK; www.puleosdairy.com; 7amÂ?10:30pm in summer). Puleo's began in 1928 with a Model-T truck that still sits outside the restaurant today, and most of the customers are locals who have come here since they were kids. The ice-cream parlor features antique dairy props, bar stools crafted from stainless steel cream jugs and black-and-white family photographs on the walls behind the adjoining restaurant's booths. Full disclosure: My college friend, Reaghan, introduced me to this place. Because her grandfather started the business, and her dad, Charles Puleo, now owns it (and because she developed some serious arm muscles working there for 6 summers), I was given full access to the sundae bar on my first visit. So maybe I'm biased. But since that day, I've eaten my share of Puelo's pints and ice-cream pies, and to this day, the thought of a spoonful makes my mouth water. My favorite is Oreo Cookie, but Reaghan prefers Vanilla M&M. "My dad literally touches every piece of product sold," Reaghan says. "There are few people who can say that a business has been in their family for nearly 80 years and still maintain this level of individual quality." If you're in Salem, don't miss Puleo's. It's certainly worth a drive from Boston. -- Jennifer Anmuth
Sark, Great Britain: Location. Location. Location
Sark, a tiny, car-free island in the middle of the English Channel, may have the best ice cream in the world. This 3-mile wide, 1½-mile long dot has 40 miles of coastline, 500 people and probably as many cows. If you haven't heard of Sark, you've probably heard of its sister islands, Jersey and Guernsey; also known for their cows. And where there are pasture-fed, happy cows, there's bound to be good ice cream. You may not be a vanilla type, but here the vanilla is a different breed -- a deep, golden yellow, as rich as custard, and more complex than State-side counterparts. You won't need directions or a name of a specific place. Just ask at the ferry dock who's got the best ice cream, and someone will point you in the right direction. As you're tucking in, consider that Sark is not officially part of the U.K. or the E.U. It's the only place left in Europe that has its own feudal system, a carryover from the days of King John. Check out www.sark.info for details on getting to the island, booking charming guesthouses, and exploring the nearby caves. -- Naomi Black
Locations throughout Switzerland: Mövenpick
Think Swiss perfection translated into ice cream; rich, creamy, and made with only the simplest, purest ingredients. In short, it's organic -- but you'd never hear a Swiss identify it that way; as in many other European countries, organic is the norm, not a marketing ploy. Mövenpick is a Swiss restaurant serving main courses and its famous ice cream, but the ice cream can also be found in Swiss grocery stores. During the summer, look for mobile street carts (follow the aroma of baked-on-site waffle cones) selling scoops in city streets and train stations. Single servings are available in the ice-cream coolers at ubiquitous Kiosks (the Swiss version of a convenience store).
Mövenpick's basic chocolate flavor is a frozen version of the rich, creamy stuff Switzerland is famous for, and the strawberry contains chunks of fresh fruit. My other favorites include Caramelita (caramel ice cream laced with buttery, French-style, melt in-your-mouth caramel chunks), Crème Ricotta Pfirsich (whipped, sweet ricotta and peach); Stracciatella (vanilla with thin swirls of Lindt milk chocolate), and Espresso Croquant (coffee with hazelnut-espresso crunchies).
Also look for Mövenpick restaurants across Europe (Germany, Austria, and Slovenia) and in Asia (including Malaysia, Korea, and Indonesia). The main website (www.moevenpick-gastronomy.com) is in German, French and Italian only (the languages of Switzerland), but English speakers will find it intuitive and easy to navigate. -- Caroline Sieg
Tempe, Arizona: Sometimes Ice Cream Alone Isn't Enough
You won't find bowls or cones at Cookiez Ice Cream Sandwiches (514 S. Mill Ave., #102; tel. 480/557-7051). What you will find are lots of fresh-baked cookies. The process is simple: Pick two cookies -- chocolate chip, sugar, or oatmeal, among others -- and then select a flavor of Hãagen-Dazs to sandwich in the middle. The still-warm cookies and the triple-digit weather hasten the melting process, so either eat quickly or be sure to take some extra napkins. -- Anuja Madar
Tepoztlán, Mexico: Ice Cream of the Gods
While attending cooking school in Tepoztlán, south of Mexico City, a stop at the local ice cream shop, Tepoznieves (av. 5 de Mayo 21; tel. TK739/395-3813; www.grupotepoznieves.com.mx) became my daily ritual. The store's slogan, Nieve de Dioses (Ice Cream of the Gods), doesn't exaggerate. More than 120 types of ice cream and sorbet, made only with natural ingredients, come in flavors familiar (vanilla, bubble gum), exotic (tamarind, mango studded with chile piquin) and off the wall (beet? lettuce? corn?). I couldn't choose a favorite -- every flavor I tasted was pitch-perfect. But I had great fun translating the fanciful names of house specialties like beso de angel (Angel's Kiss, a peach/strawberry/nut combo). Ice Cream of the Gods, indeed. But you don't need to travel to Tepoztlán for a celestial experience; Tepoznieves has locations throughout Mexico, including Cancun, Mérida, Acapulco, Tijuana, Zacatecas and several stores in Mexico City. -- Kelly Regan
Locations throughout Thailand: Beware the Durian!
Local fruit often makes its way into local ice creams and sorbets -- think blueberry ice cream in Maine or blood orange sorbet in Italy. While traveling in steamy, humid Thailand, I justified eating pounds of ice cream because it was a delicious way to cool down. I savored familiar tropical flavors (mango, lychee, and coconut), but I also discovered fruit flavors I'd never encountered at home. My favorites were Jackfruit (think pineapple, but sweeter and chewier, with a hint of something banana-like) and custard-apple (sugary and apple-like, veering towards an Asian pear). But trying new flavors has its risks.
Durian, a beloved fruit in Southeast Asia (its reputation as an aphrodisiac is no doubt part of its appeal) is so pungent in flavor and aroma, it is often banned in hotels rooms and other enclosed spaces. Locals say it is an acquired taste, which is a deadly understatement; I've heard the taste, and smell, described as rotten onions, dirty feet, vomit, filthy socks, rotting dead animals, and, "It's like a landfill exploding in your mouth, man." I watched cars pass by with durian hanging out the window to prevent the stench from permanently infecting the vehicle. Durian ice cream is apparently milder in flavor than the fresh fruit. I'm an adventurous eater, but when I mistakenly ordered a scoop, I pegged the taste as "putrid decomposing fruit in a sewer." I spit it out and rinsed my mouth. And after the 10th piece of chewing gum, my misery had abated. So beware: if you order what looks like banana delight and the vendor chuckles at you, it probably isn't because you mispronounced ai-sok-reem (ice cream). -- Caroline Sieg
